


Claiming Cerberus

by Thuri



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, F/M, M/M, Multi, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-01
Updated: 2010-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 04:59:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thuri/pseuds/Thuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Eames awakes, naked and smeared in blood with no memory of the  preceding thirty-six hours, he turns to the one man he knows he can  trust with anything. Arthur discovers the impossible truth behind the  memory lapse and forms a daring and slightly mad plan to help his friend  and colleague. But now he must convince the best extractor in the  business to come out of retirement, reassemble his team, and perform  inception on one of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claiming Cerberus

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to RandomSlasher and MagickalMolly for the betas, everyone in my life for their patience while I worked on this, and the mods of werewolfbigbang for all the work they did in the challenge
> 
> [Art Post](http://ohjayandapples.livejournal.com/1230.html) by  
> [Mix Post](http://ohjayandapples.livejournal.com/1523.html) by

Ariadne shifted in her sleep, her brow furrowing, lips twitching slightly. Small murmurs of protest escaped her lips, limbs shifting restlessly beneath the light blankets as she struggled, caught by some unseen force in her own mind.

Alert to her slightest distress, Arthur woke at once, the hair trigger years of military service had given him not dulled in the least by the life he'd led since. He'd shared the dream too long, lost his own nighttime distractions. But she hadn't, not yet, and more than once, he'd been grateful for his own light sleep as he'd woken to soothe her night terrors.

Nightmares or not, the architect had thrown herself fully into his world. He would have expected the Fischer job to have soured on her the whole experience, but Cobb had known her well. She'd returned on her own after the dust had settled, offering her expertise to any future jobs Arthur might take. Her expertise, and her companionship. Arthur still wasn't certain which had surprised him more.

Even if there hadn't been a deep physical attraction between them, Arthur couldn't turn that down. She was the best architect with whom he'd ever worked, Cobb included. The chance to move within her designs, to push the mark through the labyrinths she created was one he simply couldn't refuse. But the physical attraction _hadn't_ faded in the few months they'd been apart, while she'd finished school and Arthur had enjoyed both his share from the Fischer job and Eames's company.

And when the forger had returned to London, and he'd been left alone...he'd accepted her request to come visit him with alacrity. As soon as she'd walked in his door, dark eyes darting around the room before latching on his, he'd felt it. A deep, mutual heat that hadn't taken long to ignite in the other's absence. She'd gone from sleeping on his couch to sleeping in his bed in a matter of mere days.

That was when he'd discovered her nightmares, and set himself to protecting her from them as best he could.

"Ari." He shook her gently as a soft moan escaped her.

Her eyelids flickered, opened. Sleep-filled eyes gradually cleared and she relaxed abruptly. A rueful smile spread over her face as she came back to the real world. "Arthur?"

"It was just a dream," he softly reassured her, leaning in and pressing his lips gently against hers.

"That's somehow not as comforting as it used to be," she replied wryly, pushing herself up and running a hand back through her tangled hair.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Arthur asked, reaching over and lighting the bedside lamp before pulling her into his arms, hands rubbing down her biceps, chafing her chilled skin.

She sighed, pressing close against him, winding her hands into his silken pajama top. "It was strange," she murmured slowly. "Dark, everywhere, except for the moon...and I could hear howling." She half-laughed, shaking her head. "Sure there's not a pack of wolves outside?"

Arthur echoed her laugh, as the sounds of New York City at night continued their muffled symphony outside their window. "Unless they're based in Central Park, I wouldn't think so. You've been reading too many of Eames's horror novels."

"Probably," Ariadne agreed, kissing his neck, hand slipping from his lapel to his belly, sliding his shirt slowly open, button by button. "Distract me?"

"Gladly," Arthur breathed, pulling her up and over him, until the dreams melted in the heat of reality.

*   *   *

Eames woke abruptly, gasping huge draughts of fresh air into burning lungs. Running. He'd been running, chased, all night, trying to catch something, evade something, everything dark and confused and...

And impossible, he reminded himself, trying to take stock of his situation. The...woods? Wilderness, in every direction, a call of birdsong on the wind, cheerful, country morning personified. No PASIV, he wasn't sharing a dream. He'd lost his own dreams ages ago. So what...what had woken him with such dark half-memories?

Unless this _was_ still a dream, another level, where he'd been pulled in and forced to...to...he started, staring down at himself in disbelief. Where in God's name were his clothes? He'd reached to check his totem, but not only was it missing, so were his trousers. And his shirt, his socks, his _pants_...all of it.

 _Not the first time I've been stranded without my kit,_ he thought, slowly stretching sore muscles, trying to make sense of the situation. Not the first time he'd been stranded in the wilderness, either.

First time they'd both happened at the same time, though. Groaning, he pushed himself to his feet, brushing away dried mud, leaves, and smears of...wait, was that _blood_?

Not his own, of that he was certain. But then holy hell. If on the off chance he wasn't dreaming, then... what had happened to him?

*  *  *

The sharp ring of a cell phone shattered through Ariadne's sleep. She pulled herself up, feeling Arthur stir beside her.

"Hello?" he said, not sounding nearly as sleepy as Ariadne knew he had to be. But that was Arthur, sharp and on the spot and ready to go, no matter what the circumstances. Endlessly adaptable, without visible effort. She snuggled in against him, closing her eyes again to listen better, knowing she could trust him to take care of whatever emergency had descended on them.

"Eames? Slow down." Arthur's tone, even, calm, directly contrasted to the tumbling panic she could hear over the line. "You...you _what_?"

Ariadne pushed herself up, frowning. Eames drove Arthur to distraction, of course, but the point man sounded honestly concerned, now, not annoyed.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, the lights from the street below silhouetting the gesture against their window. "Are you sure it wasn't a dream? Did Yusuf slip you something?"

Even Ariadne heard Eames's furious denial and she hugged her knees to her chest, biting her lip harder with every moment he spoke. Though the words were indecipherable, she could hear his tone clearly enough. The brash, almost perennially good natured Englishman sounded frightened.

"All right," Arthur said, finally, when Eames seemed to have run out of words. "Yes, I believe you. Where are you right now?" Ariadne looked up, watching as Arthur nodded again. "We'll be there as soon as we can. There'll be a flight within the next couple of hours. Ten minutes to pack, Eames, that's all it'll take, and we'll be on our way." He pinched his nose again. "Don't argue, Eames, we're coming."

Ariadne raised an eyebrow, but pulled herself out of bed, already moving over to their closet as Arthur kept talking. She couldn't imagine the trouble Eames could've gotten himself into that he couldn't have talked or swindled his way back out of, or that would necessitate them running to his side. Usually he showed up on their doorstep, bloodied and bruised, perhaps, but grinning. Washed up against Arthur's rock-steady presence, the way she herself had been.

Tugging free both her own suitcase and Arthur's was the work of a few moments, and she reflected on that particular unexpected benefit to the Fischer job. Not only had it done the team's reputation a world of good in a very select circle, but the pay had given her an entire wardrobe in this handsome case, ready to go at a moment's notice. She'd laughed at Arthur, when he'd helped her put it together, insisting she'd be grateful for it. Each garment was carefully placed in space-saving bags, the air sucked out to prevent wrinkles, stacked against each other in tight layers. Everything she could possibly need, for a vacation or a job. And now she was grateful for her own, and that Arthur had one as well. His insistence had, as usual, proved valid.

Suitcases out, she dressed, listening to Arthur still arguing with Eames, a slight smile on her face. To anyone else, it would sound like petty bickering, she was sure, as if the two men couldn't stand each other. But Ariadne knew it for the deep regard and genuine affection it was. Despite all outward appearances, Arthur was calming Eames down with his snarking. Comforting him, in the best way he knew how.

The question was...why did he need to?

*  *  *

Arthur hung up, looking over to see Ariadne dressed, tying her scarf around her neck in a gesture so Parisian it brought a smile to his face, despite his concern for Eames. For all her American origin, she'd adapted seamlessly to her adopted city, taking on the fashion and attitudes with an instinctual ease he envied. She was as much a forger, in her own way, as Eames.

Eames. The thought of the other man sobered him, and Arthur shook his head sharply.

The gesture alerted Ariadne, and she turned to him. "Where are we meeting him?"

He allowed himself another small smile. Yet another reason he loved her. Even before asking why, she had them ready to leave, to support Eames. The man that any other woman would have considered a threat, and she cared for him as much as Arthur.

"He's in London," Arthur replied, quickly and efficiently stripping off his pajamas to replace them with a traveling suit. "At his flat. Call Cobb and let him know we'll be out of the country for at least a week?" The supposedly retired extractor still kept tabs on the whereabouts of his team, and this particular development...he'd want to be kept informed.

"Right away." Ariadne nodded, heading out of the room as Arthur concentrated on dressing himself, forcing his fingers to stay steady as he tied a perfect four-in-hand knot in his dove gray tie. Shaking hands in reality would lead to shaking hands in the dream. And there, a single misplaced shot could be the difference between failure and success. Literally between life and death, depending on the employer.

So he kept his hands focused, as he pulled on his shoes, tied them smartly. Kept them precise, as he buttoned his waistcoat, kept them level as he settled his jacket around his shoulders.

Tight, even control. That was what would get them out of this. Would pull Eames from his current mess. Arthur couldn't give into the fear that'd already consumed the older man. If he was going to fix this, he couldn't let Eames's panic infect him.

Even if Eames had apparently woken that morning, covered in blood, with no memory of the preceding thirty-six hours.

*  *  *

 _Six weeks later_

*  *  *

Cobb stared at Arthur, certain there should be some sign of it. Some outward evidence, a mark, at least one damn hair out of place. Anything, to show his normally steady, reliable point man had gone completely off the deep end. "Say that again?"

Arthur's lips tightened. "I said Eames needs our help," he repeated in sharp, clipped tones.

"No," Cobb countered, shaking his head sharply. If this had been Eames himself standing here in his kitchen, saying this, Cobb would've immediately have known it for a joke, a prank, and moved on. But Arthur...Arthur didn't pull pranks. At least never ones this completely obvious. And when he _was_ goaded into them, he was much more subtle. Maybe Ariadne had been a bad influence?

"No," Cobb repeated again. "You told me Eames is a _werewolf_."

"And he needs our help," Arthur said once again, as if that answered everything.

For the first time in a long time, Cobb reached for his totem, glad to feel the solid weight of it in his hand. In the living room, he could hear Phillipa and James arguing over whose turn it was in their incomprehensible game. A breeze came through the window, soft and warm, carrying the smell of freshly cut grass and the distant smell of the ocean. Everything outwardly seemed normal, a beautiful California spring day. But now this...

Cobb shook his head again, though it didn't help anymore than it had the first time. "Arthur..."

"I know how it sounds, Dom," Arthur interrupted. "I thought the same thing myself. But we've seen it. You know me. Would I bring this to you if I weren't certain?"

Cobb sighed. "No," he admitted reluctantly. He did have to give the younger man that. "But, even assuming what you're saying is true," which was one hell of an assumption, but he supposed he owed Arthur enough to listen, at the least, "what can we do about it? The only cure I know of involves a silver bullet."

"That's not acceptable," Arthur said firmly. "But no, that's not what I want. I'm here to ask for your help. To incept him."

"Incept him?" Cobb repeated numbly, now absolutely certain this conversation would never make sense. "To what? Not be a werewolf anymore?"

"Not exactly," Arthur replied, either not catching or, more likely, ignoring Cobb's sarcasm. "But we think it might be possible to make him safe...to keep the wolf from taking over."

"You want me to _house train_ Eames using inception?" Cobb asked, slumping down into his chair, resting his head in his hands for a long moment. "Arthur, even if this _was_ true, even if it were _possible_..."

"Dom..." Arthur leaned forward in his chair, intently, his dark eyes fixed on Cobb's. "It's real. Trust me." His lips quirked slightly. "Take a leap of faith."

Cobb's lips twitched in return. As if he could refuse Arthur, logical, practical Arthur, when he made such a request. So unlike him, and so perfectly pitched to appeal to Cobb's nature...but that was why Arthur was so good at what he did, wasn't it? He knew exactly what would work. Even if the situation he'd described was perfectly insane. "Fine. Fine, we'll do it. But we're going to have to move carefully, if what you're saying is true. And I'll want proof."

Arthur nodded. "I wouldn't expect you to move forward without it," he agreed. "I have surveillance, though all you'll need is the next full moon. But before that..." He leaned back, his body relaxing slightly in his chair as the conversation turned to logistics. Cobb almost smiled, to see him slip so easily into his element. "We'll need Yusuf. Confronting that wolf will take more than a few tweaks to the normal compounds...and possibly sedation."

Cobb nodded, still unable to believe he was really considering this. But Arthur wasn't easy to convince...and he believed it. Cobb had worked with him long enough to know the difference between a convinced Arthur, and one spinning a con. Besides, Cobb couldn't deny he owed the younger man his trust. And his life, several times over. So if he insisted...then it would happen.

"If not for us, then at least for him," Cobb agreed, putting aside the impossibility of what they were discussing. Look at it like a puzzle to solve, for now, consider the implications later. Like how the hell Eames had gotten himself into this situation. "All right. Assemble the team. If he's as dangerous as you say, we'll need a secure base. One not here," he added, glancing back into the living room once more, seeing Phillipa smile in triumph as she pinned her little brother to the carpet.

"Already taken care of," Arthur assured him, handing over a slip of paper with an address and basic directions written in Arthur's distinctive hand. "It's an abandoned farm, this time. Two miles from the nearest neighbor. I just got the utilities reactivated."

Cobb nodded, appreciating the need for it. The isolation would be a necessity if Eames...got out of control. At least they wouldn't need a plan for getting him under. "You said you had proof?"

Arthur nodded, pulling out a slim laptop from his briefcase, opening it on Cobb's kitchen table. "I filmed it. When he called, he hadn't known for certain what had happened, only that he was in trouble. We pieced enough together to have a suspicion, by the next month...and it was confirmed."

He pulled up a video, grainy, but clear enough. "We had to lock him in...and almost didn't manage it. I didn't catch the initial change, only when he came back to himself...and that was only by threading a fiber optic camera through a hole drilled in the door. Which barely held. We'll need a better set up, at the farm."

And indeed, Cobb saw a small bedroom, furniture upturned, bedding ripped and scattered. In the middle of the wreckage, a wolf, curled around itself, obviously asleep. Though the video had no sound, he could almost imagine the low growl that had to accompany it. He shivered, in spite of himself. To see the obviously wild animal in the middle of so much destruction... "And you're telling me that's Eames?"

"Just watch," Arthur said, a bitter thread in his usually even voice.

As Cobb did, the wolf shifted, shifted again, the light increasing in the room around it. By the time the light had changed to that of full day, the wolf was up, pacing, restless. Until it stiffened, all at once, and... _changed._

Limbs shifted, lengthened, filled out. Fur thinned, disappeared, changed to the wiry body hair of a human being, even as the muzzle shortened, the teeth grew flatter, the snarling lips became full and soft. Until, after an endless few minutes, the wolf disappeared completely, and the man left in its place collapsed to the ground, his unconscious face turned toward the camera.

Eames.

"God in heaven," Cobb whispered, as Arthur stopped the video, shaken to his very core. That hadn't been faked. No question of it, and no reason they would have gone to that much trouble just to pull a prank on him, anyway.

"That was approximately my reaction," Arthur said, still staring at the paused image of Eames's face, scratched and pained, even in sleep. Utterly foreign to how he looked, when dreaming. "He stayed that way for close to thirty-six hours. The first time it happened, he was loose...and woke up covered in blood. It wasn't human, but we weren't able to determine the source."

Cobb shivered again, clasping his hands on the table to keep them from shaking. "All right," he managed. "All right. Something obviously has to be done. But what makes you think inception is the answer?"

Arthur shrugged, meeting the older man's eyes again. "At this point, what could it hurt? All we know for certain is that Eames isn't consciously aware of his actions when he's...changed. If we can reach a part of his subconscious that _is_ aware, there may be a way to change that."

"Or we might end up torn to pieces by a pack of angry wolves," Cobb pointed out, scrubbing a hand over his face. He didn't like it, but Arthur had a point. Even if this seemed a bit of a leap for the usually staid point man. Probably Eames's idea. "Is he asking us to do this for him?"

Arthur hesitated, briefly, but obviously to someone who had known him as long as Cobb. "No. He doesn't know I came to see you."

Cobb didn't have to hear what Arthur left unsaid to know Eames wouldn't appreciate it when he found out, either. The usually affable forger was anything but when it came to his privacy. Still...they were colleagues and, Cobb liked to think, friends. With few other avenues, this might be the best hope for Eames, at least for the short term. And better than locking himself in a basement a day and a half out of every month.

"All right, Arthur," he said, at last, coming to a decision. "I'll do this."

"Thank you, Dom," Arthur said, softly, but fervently. "I know it's a long shot."

"We're good at those, though, aren't we?" Cobb said, smiling wryly, unable to believe he was actually going to do this. But then...the Fischer job had seemed the same, and that company had officially reverted to its components parts some time ago, leaving Robert Fischer a less powerful, but by all accounts happier man. Maybe they could do this as well. "But we'll need time...and have to prove this to the rest of the team."

"Ariadne knows," Arthur said, carefully, but evenly, as he closed the laptop once more, sliding it back into its case. "She came with me to London."

Cobb paused, looking at Arthur, the deliberate way the younger man refused to meet his eyes, the infinitesimal flush of pink across his cheeks. "Did she?" he asked, not certain how he felt about this particular development. He was too old for the architect, of course, and felt a paternal concern for her, more than anything else. Even if he'd been younger, he was too caught up in getting his own life back on track, getting over Mal. He couldn't, in good conscience, have pursued her for himself, even if  he'd had any real interest in doing so. But knowing she was with Arthur...

"She did," Arthur repeated, his slight blush darkening by a single shade. "She's staying with me. In New York."

"There are quite a few good firms there," Cobb said, pushing back the stinging spikes of concern. There was no justifiable reason for the emotion. Arthur was a good man. He'd do his best for her. "It's a good career move for her, now that she's graduated."

"It has very little to do with her career, Dom," Arthur murmured, before straightening again. "Yusuf will be easy enough to find, and Eames trusts him. That can't help but be a bonus, all things considered."

Cobb nodded, slowly, taking Arthur's change of subject for the gift it was. He could concentrate on the job, and leave his worries behind. Arthur and Ariadne would not fall into the same traps he had with Mal. They were different people, and the field of dreams was better known. "Eames won't be easy to crack...but he'll be consciously helping us, so that should at least make things go more smoothly."

“We can hope,” Arthur agreed, not sounding particularly convinced. But Arthur’s skepticism was part and parcel of every successful job they’d ever pulled off, and his doubt relaxed Cobb. Just another puzzle to work out, another labyrinth to design and learn. Another job.

Right. He didn't think telling himself that would work for long.

*  *  *

"He's in." Arthur's tired voice was, nonetheless, satisfied.

Ariadne breathed a sigh of relief, looking over to where Eames sat, sunk down into his dark leather armchair, a half-empty glass of whiskey dangling precariously from his fingers. He stared into the cold fireplace, still and quiet in a way she'd seldom seen him before...before all this. Once he would've been laughing, ridiculing the old world stodginess of Arthur's taste in rooms and decor, charming her and convincing her to go out on the town, escape the London hotel in which they were staying. Once he would've stolen the cell phone from her hands when first it rang, be teasing Arthur and flirting with him, at once threatening to steal Ariadne away from him, and trying to seduce him himself.

Once he would've done anything but brood like this, eyes fixed and staring, mind miles and miles away. About 240,000 miles, if Ariadne was any judge. Focused on the moon, and its inexorable waxing and waning...and what that had come to mean for the forger. The uncontrollable changes it brought over him.

She shivered to herself, pressing further back into the alcove in which she stood, just far enough out of the sitting area to see Eames, but to still keep her call mostly private. Not that he'd seemed to be interested in much of anything besides keeping his glass full, this past week.

Shaking her head, Ariadne turned her attention back to Arthur. So their desperate scheme had worked, and Cobb had agreed. Certain as she'd been of it, relief still flooded through her. "Good. Did he believe you?"

"Not at first," Arthur admitted. "But the video we took was hard to ignore. He's getting in contact with Yusuf, and I'm outfitting the farm for our next move. All we need is the mark."

"Easier said than done," Ariadne agreed, eyes still following Eames, watching as he lifted the glass to his lips, then dropped it again without drinking. "I'm not sure anything will get him moving, right now."

"Do what you can for him, Ari," Arthur said gently. "If anyone can keep him together through this, it's you."

The simple confidence in his voice did much to bolster Ariadne's spirit, and she let out a deep, steadying breath. "Thanks. I wish you were here, though. I miss you."

"I miss you, too," Arthur replied, smile audible in his wistful voice. "Fly out as soon as you can. We're racing the moon."

"I know." Ariadne sighed, running a hand back through her unbrushed hair, grimacing when it caught in a tangle. She needed a shower, a change of clothes, food...basically to take care of herself for a bit, not just Eames. "I'll get him out there. Even if I have to drug and ship him."

Arthur chuckled softly and the sound heartened her. "That's my girl. I'll see you soon."

"Soon," she echoed, touching the necklace at her throat, the small red die pendant he'd given her. "Take care."

"You, too," he instructed, before saying goodbye and hanging up, leaving her alone with Eames and the dark.

Eames stirred, as she moved back into the dark sitting room, turning on a single lamp. A sardonic smile spread across his face, and he raised his glass to her. "So, how is Arthur?" he asked, drawling the name out until it was nearly an insult.

"He's worried about you," Ariadne replied, once more settling down on the sofa across from him, tucking her feet up beneath her. She picked up her book, but didn't open it, the small pool of light surrounding her still not enough to truly read his face. "Like me."

"I've been a lone wolf all my life, pet," Eames replied with a bright--and almost believable--grin, shifting in his seat. "No reason for it to worry either of you now," his lips pulled back, showing his teeth, "when it's simply more literal."

"He's your friend, Eames," Ariadne said, not rising to the bait the conman kept dangling in front of her. Though she couldn't, quite, suppress the shiver that traveled down her spine. "So am I."

"Friends, yes." He knocked back the rest of the amber liquid in his glass, lips twisting around his bitter words. "Always useful, those. Tell me, little architect, is Arthur your "friend" too?"

Ariadne blushed, deeply. She could pretend she didn't know or understand what he meant, what he was implying, but he'd know she was lying.

He took advantage of her hesitation, in any case, barrelling on. "He would be, wouldn't he? All handsome and smooth and slick and class and style...of course you'd end up with him. Bland, nonthreatening, unfeeling, safe as houses Arthur, always without imagination, without--"

"Eames, who exactly is it making you jealous here?" Ariadne asked, raising her eyebrow. "No one who's watched you flirt with Arthur would ever believe that's your true opinion of him."

"Oh really, pet?" Eames asked, raising his own eyebrow in return. "Then what is my opinion of Cobb's favorite stick in the mud?"

Ariadne's cheeks heated again, but she straightened, meeting his eyes straight on. She wasn't truly sure what all Arthur and Eames felt for each other, though she knew their bond went much deeper than the petty bickering they used to mask it. And nothing had spoken to that more clearly than the morning, six weeks before, when Eames had woken, naked and frightened on his own, covered in blood. Because it had been Arthur he'd called, Arthur he'd trusted, in that moment of vulnerability and need. Arthur who'd sprung to his mind as a safe haven, and answer to his prayers. And the man who would consider Arthur that would not mean the words he'd spoken against him. "You trust him," she replied, pleased when her voice came out steady. "Maybe more than you trust anyone else."

Eames waved a hand dismissively, but she thought she'd hit home, even if he was trying to brush it off. "He's dependable, I'll give him that. And tedious, irksome, platitudinous..."

"Nicely chosen," Ariadne said dryly, sitting back a bit. If insulting Arthur would bring Eames out of his funk, even slightly, she was willing to let him. Besides, she knew Arthur didn't truly mind. Much.

"Thank you, my dear," Eames replied smoothly, setting his empty glass aside, meeting her eyes. "So what did he want? Assurance I've not yet mauled you?"

"He knows you won't," Ariadne replied, surprised anew at how confident she was of the same. Eames wouldn't hurt her...at least not when he was himself. But they still had two weeks, before they needed to worry about him becoming something else once more. "No, he wants us to come out to California and join him in LA."

"I don't suppose he had the decency to say why, before ordering us about the globe?" Eames asked, again shifting his weight. But for one, it wasn't to sink deeper into the chair, but to rise up in it, interest flitting over his features.

Ariadne hesitated a moment, before nodding, slowly. Arthur hadn't thought it a good idea to tell Eames what they were going to try, at least not until he was with the rest of the team. But she felt he needed to know what was going on. What Arthur was willing to risk for him. "We have a plan."

*  *  *

Arthur surveyed the space around him, frowning slightly as he examined the old barn. The construction seemed sturdy enough, solid stalls built to hold horses or perhaps cattle lining each side. He walked over to one, the wooden paneling that made up the bottom of each stall coming to his chest, and looked between the metal bars into the small room within. A packed earthen floor, with remnants of horse bedding still in the corners...but it wouldn't be hard to floor it with something that wouldn't yield to stubborn claws.

Yes, though he wished he could trust the stalls to be strong enough to hold Eames when the moon turned and the bloodlust took him, they were at least a decent place to start. As it was, he had several long days of construction ahead of him, reinforcing what was already there with steel kennel panels, floor boards, locks and metal mesh, making a prison cell out of the stall.

Arthur hated the thought of caging Eames this way, locking him in on himself. The conman had always been so devoted to his freedom, so impossible to hold in one place for more than the length of a job. To actually lock him up, cage him within a cell...but he saw no way around it. Not when the wolf Eames became was such a danger to anyone nearby.

Pushing away the lingering memories of watching Eames turn inside out, screaming as his body shifted and changed, his bones cracked and rearranged themselves, his skin erupted into fur, Arthur rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. Time to get to work.

Dom found him there, several hours later, covered in dust and loose bits of straw and bedding, his usually carefully slicked back hair loose and falling forward over his sweaty forehead. He'd stripped off first his jacket, even before beginning, but his vest and tie had followed, as the work continued.

The old barn had the beginnings of being a decent work site, though, and the results were worth the effort involved. He'd scrubbed down most the surfaces, cleaning out the other stalls to use as individual offices for the team. The old tack room, with its sink and long table, he'd transformed into a makeshift lap for Yusuf, while another table took up the open space at the other end, the wall cleared for anything Dom might feel worth sticking up on it as they worked.

"You've been busy," Dom observed, walking into the barn, dust motes shimmering around him, caught in a beam of light streaming in from above. It made him look positively heroic, and Arthur snorted to himself at the thought.

"We're on a schedule," he pointed out, plunging his hands into a bucket of cold water, rubbing them briskly against each other to remove the dirt. "It's less than two weeks until the next full moon."

Dom leaned against the end of the table, crossing his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes slightly. "And you think we'll be ready before then? That we'll have this figured out well enough to try the job?"

Arthur shook his head, drying his hands on an old--but clean--piece of sacking "Of course not. But I want him here when it happens again. Not in London." Not alone with Ariadne. "Besides, Yusuf will need samples for his compounds, and he won't be getting them without Eames nearby."

Dom nodded, still watching as Arthur slipped his vest on and smoothed his hair back into place. "He will. I heard from him this morning. He'll be arriving in a week, maybe less. He finds the challenge 'fascinating'."

"We should be glad we remain interesting enough to entice him out into the field," Arthur muttered, feeling more himself as he finished his very basic cleansing and tidying. "He is the best at what he does. Like you."

"And you," Dom agreed, lips twitching into  a slight smile. "You all are. Which is why you're on my team. When will Ariadne be joining us? We need her to get started designing those levels as soon as possible. Did you leave her in New York?"

"She's in London," Arthur replied, rather reluctantly. He didn't want Dom knowing it, but what choice had they had? Someone had to keep an eye on the forger, and she'd insisted it be her. Arthur couldn't argue with her logic, knowing that he had more luck appealing to Dom when it came to work than she did. Though if it had been an emotional plea, he still might have sent her, knowing she was, in many ways, a weak point in Dom's armor. As, it seemed, any woman who fascinated him was destined to be. "With Eames."

"With Eames?" Dom's head jerked up. "Are you insane?"

"If I was, I wouldn't know, would I?" Arthur asked blandly, settling on an upturned barrel, adding comfortable chairs to the mental list he was compiling for the barn. They'd need a place to work. "Relax, Dom. She's fine until the moon changes, and he'll be here by then. Do you think any of the rest of us had a chance at talking him into coming out here?"

"Maybe not," Dom conceded, still frowning at his point man. "But they'd better be on their way."

Arthur inclined his head. "I heard from her this morning. They'll fly out Friday."

"And then the real work will begin," Dom agreed, not looking reassured.

Arthur couldn't blame him. In an entire career based on long shots, risks and maybes, this had to be the biggest chance he'd ever taken.

*  *  *

Ariadne threw herself into Arthur's arms, pressing her body in tight against him, burying her face in his shoulder. His arms came around her, fingers tangling in her hair as he bent his head to hers, appearing to be breathing her in, face hidden from view.

Eames watched, trying to push down his automatic reaction, jealousy pulsing through his veins. And, as Ariadne had asked him only days before, he couldn't decide which of them was more to blame for the roiling in his gut. He only knew he wanted them both, and constantly smelling the one on the other was becoming more than he could bear.

He barely noticed Cobb's arrival--a whiff of detergent, aftershave and play-doh--until the man leaned back against the wall beside him. "They look good together," he observed, though he sounded hardly pleased by that fact.

Eames growled, softly, the deep rumble rising unbidden in his chest. "Arthur wears her as well as he does everything else," he agreed, leaning back against the wall himself, glancing over at Cobb. He looked ridiculously tanned and healthy, the haunted exhaustion missing from his face, his eyes. Perhaps the shade of his dead wife finally had let him go. Or more accurately, he'd let her go, allowing himself to deal with her loss at last.

Cobb snorted. "An accurate, if less than charitable assessment, Mr. Eames," he returned, brushing his hand back through his now sun-bleached hair. "I wasn't sure you'd agree to this," he added, apparently ready to leave the subject of Arthur, Ariadne, and their love life far behind. A fact for which Eames could, really, only be grateful.

He shrugged, turning to look at Cobb, ignoring the soft murmurs of Arthur and Ariadne behind them. One would think they weren't on the phone to each other at all hours, the way they seemed determined to catch each other up on every thought they'd had while not in each other's presence. "Much as I would've enjoyed running free and wild once a month, it'd prove hellish on my reputation."

The truth, that he was willing to try any mad scheme Arthur might have, and half-baked idea of Ariadne's, even any concoction of Yusuf's, just to put a stop to this malady, he kept to himself. But he wasn't certain how many more times he could endure waking with no memory of the previous thirty-six hours, and no knowledge of who he might have injured, or worse.

True enough, there were some he didn't care about. But if he was working, if it were Arthur, Ariadne...he couldn't live with hurting them. "Most women only say they want a beast in bed. The reality is...a bit less desired."

Cobb nodded, glancing over at him. "We'll do our best for you."

"Of that, Dominic, I've no doubt," Eames replied with a wink and a passing attempt at his usual good nature, as he clapped the other man on the shoulder. "Now. Where is Arthur hiding the whiskey?"

*  *  *

Yusuf's arrival, the next day, was enough to turn the team's attention entirely to work, leaving all other thoughts and worries behind them. They had an advantage over the last time they'd prepared for inception, as this time all of them knew it was possible. Robert Fischer's scattered former empire--and the windmill farm he was said to be running--spoke clearly to that. He had taken the idea they'd planted within him, and given it life.

The more they spoke, however, the more certain Arthur and Cobb became that another approach was needed to free Eames, though they didn't tell him of it. Nor was he able to see the designs Ariadne worked on so diligently, creating her pasteboard and cardboard worlds, now with Cobb able to offer his own insights, though she remained more skilled than he had ever been.

But Eames did find companionship with Yusuf. The chemist would have been happy to spend as much time as he could with his old friend no matter the circumstances, but now found Eames's continued presence in his lab all the more useful for snagging samples of blood and tissue, seeking out what had changed within him.

Arthur, watching them from the stall door, remarked dryly one afternoon that it would be just their luck to have everything finally in place and ready only to find Yusuf had developed a cure in his spare time.

Eames's retort that that would be fine with him hit, Arthur felt, a little close to the bone for all of them.

But one week turned to another, and the reinforced stall was soon called upon to perform its duty. And despite the video they'd all studied, despite knowing the truth of what had happened to their forger, Arthur knew the others really weren't prepared for the transformation that took place, the evening before that full moon.

*  *  *

"A little privacy, perhaps?" Eames asked, shutting the reinforced door behind him, looking at the cell that was to be his prison until the madness passed. Arthur had been thorough, cleaning it of all sharp edges and weak points, leaving only four recently plastered walls, all, Ariadne knew, much stronger even than they appeared. "A gentleman does like to be alone to undress."

"You're no gentleman, Mr. Eames," Arthur returned, as Ariadne fumbled a bit, fastening the deadbolts, then the padlocks that would keep the door closed and secure. She tried not to think about the tranquilizer gun Arthur had brought into the barn with him that morning, now ready and in its case beside the PASIV device. She knew it was necessary, that Yusuf had to make sure his formulations would be effective, but the thought of Arthur using it on Eames...

She shuddered. One thing to see them shoot each other in dreams. Another when it was all too real.

"That's hardly the point now, is it, darling?" Eames's tone was sharper than usual, though Ariadne could tell he was trying for his usual level of levity. "If you don't mind?"

Arthur turned away, thin-lipped, the corners of his eyes tightened against whatever it was going on in his mind. Ariadne bit her lip, as she pushed the last lock closed, hearing it click with a sort of finality. Not much time, now...not if this curse followed the same set of rules it had before, in London. And unless lycanthropy was susceptible to jet-lag...

She pushed down a wholly inappropriate giggle at the wild thought, leaning back against the stall door. Outside, the shadows were growing longer...the sun would set very soon. And then it would happen.

Already, Eames was pacing in the small space. She could hear his measured footfalls, softer without his shoes. He'd worn only a loose pair of cotton pants and a tshirt into the cell, knowing whatever clothes he had were likely to be destroyed by the end of the ordeal. She wondered how it felt, waiting, knowing your body was about to shift and change against your will, your mind go blank, disappear beyond conscious reach.

The very idea frightened her, and she pushed off the door, crossing swiftly to the stall across the way, breathing out only when her mazes surrounded her. Small worlds, worlds she could control...and that hopefully would lead Eames back to himself. Keep him from losing who he was to the wrath of the wolf within him.

By the time she'd calmed herself again, the sun had disappeared from the sky, and the slap of bare soles had turned to the click of blunt nails. No howl, not yet, but a low, constant growl emerged from the reinforced cell, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up.

"Arthur, he's ready," Cobb called out, his own voice deeply shaken. Ariadne emerged from her makeshift office, seeing their extractor staring into Eames's stall, white beneath his California tan. She didn't blame him, not after seeing it happen the last time.

"As am I," Arthur replied, raising the tranquilizer gun to his shoulder. He aimed through the mesh at the top of the stall, finger resting gently beside the trigger. "Yusuf?"

The growls grew louder as Yusuf signaled his own readiness, only to be cut off by a pained yip as the dart slammed home.

Ariadne slumped down into a chair, watching her teammates as they slowly opened the door and prepared to draw the wolf's blood, take samples from its body. Eames might be in a drugged sleep, but for the rest of them, the work had only just begun.

*  *  *

Cobb looked over at Ariadne, seeing the strain around her eyes, as she listened to Arthur and Yusuf trying to make sense of the information they'd gleaned from their samples. This had not been easy on her, and he couldn't think that it would change, before they'd finished.

He couldn't do much to ease her worries over Eames, but he could provide necessary distraction for them both, he decided, standing and crossing the room to pour a cup of fresh coffee. Bringing it to her, he gently touched her elbow, offering the mug. "How's it coming?"

Ariadne started, slightly, at the touch, but she accepted the mug with a smile, wrapping her fingers around it. "Thank you," she murmured, taking a long sip as she looked at the quiet stall where Eames slept off the dose of sedative that had allowed them to take blood and hair samples for Yusuf. Another sip, and she shook her head, facing Cobb again, visibly setting aside her concern. "I've finished the preliminary design for all three levels. The first is an urban, public area...it'll put the wolf-mind off guard and give us an advantage. I hope," she added, smiling a little wryly.

"That sounds like an excellent plan," Cobb assured her, looking over into her darkened office-stall. She stood, leading him into the room, gesturing to the mazes already laid out and the one on which she was currently working.

"Eames's subconscious is familiar with extraction," she said, tracing the edges of one twisting, spiraling path with a finger. "So I figured we'd be up against plenty of opposition. These are the most complicated I could come up with and still have a chance of teaching to the dreamers. As far as the decor, the first is a zoo." She touched a complicated twisting of paths, combinations of straights and curves, lines that forced Cobb's eyes to trace and try to find the solution.

"After that," Ariadne went on, moving to the second almost completed maze, "a forest. It seems open and familiar, to an animal, but it's designed to entrap anyone who doesn't know the key. I'll be dreaming this level myself," she added, checking for his nod of agreement before going on. "So I've made it a complete labyrinth. With any luck, the wolf will be trapped before it even knows what's happened."

"Very good," Cobb murmured, looking down at the model. It was larger than the first, the scale obviously more extreme, with twists and turns and spirals and switchbacks one after the other, until he had to blink and look away, turning to catch Ariadne's delighted smile. Even tired and worried as she obviously was, her joy and justifiable pride in her work shone through. "I can't imagine the projections having a chance of finding us through this."

"That's what I'm hoping," Ariadne agreed, turning to the last and least finished of the designs. "This one was more difficult...but I think it should serve. Eames told me about a trip he'd taken, to Scotland, at least once a year as a child. So I put it in those hills, munros, he called them, sort of a cross between what's happened and who he was as a child..."

"We'll only be helped if he brings family there," Cobb agreed, reassuring her it'd been the right choice. "We're trying to keep his mind focused on who he is, and when he won't give us enough details on his past for anything more direct, this should be close enough."

Ariadne slumped a bit in obvious relief. "I hoped that," she said, nodding as if she'd never doubted it. "I don't know quite how it'll look in Arthur's mind, but I think it should serve," she said, touching the central room in the emerging design. "This is the cache, the hidden cave, the den," she said, fingers caressing it softly. "Where you'll help him find himself again."

Cobb laid his hand beside hers, meeting her eyes over the design, hoping his gaze stayed as professional as it should. Her eyes were alight with creation, her face filled with hope and trust, and he found himself wanting to protect her, keep her safe, convince her stay out of this mess, this world. "Yes," he said, instead, pulling away again. He'd corrupted her, set Miles's bright and gentle student on this path. There was no going back. "You've out done yourself, Ariadne. These are incredible."

She smiled, and if she'd felt the moment, or its passing, she made no sign of it. "Thank you. I just hope they work...and that we can synchronize a decent kick."

"Leave that to me," Cobb promised, stepping back again as she took another sip of her coffee. "I think Arthur has a few ideas, but we can always blow out a the support beams again, right?"

"Or tip our chairs," Ariadne agreed, smiling at him over her mug.

  
*  *  *

"You know we have no idea of what we'll be up against in there," Arthur said with a deep frown, examining the level Ariadne had declared she'd made for him. She'd somehow leapt forward again, in her skill with dream-building, since the last time he'd seen her work. This was inspired--and far beyond his own skills as an architect.

But then he had always been better at dismantling, destroying and navigating than he had at creating. They had never asked him to come up with the battle plans, when he'd still been in the service, but he'd been handpicked as the best man to carry them out, more than once.

Dom nodded, from where he leaned back in his own chair, examining a sheaf of papers stapled in one corner. "I know. Eames's mind we know well enough to anticipate, but if he's not even aware of himself when that wolf takes over..."

Arthur again traced the path out from the center of the maze, the den they'd build to capture the wolf. "Then we can't be sure what state he'll be in when he joins the dream," he finished. "Ari's work is incredible, but Eames knows all the tricks. It could make what we were up against with Fischer look like child's play."

Dom flipped the papers back into a neat stack, steepling his fingers in front of his lips. "And Eames knows more about us than Fischer did," he agreed, glancing out into the other room, where Eames, fresh scratches and bites on his arms from his most recent transformation, was speaking quietly with Ariadne, apparently attempting to make her laugh. Even from a dozen feet away, Arthur could see how the fragility his apparent cheer, how likely the facade was to crack and break. The strain was showing ever more visibly on their forger. "He knows what to pull up against us."

Arthur tore his gaze and concern away, concentrating again on the work, the one way he knew how to help the other man. "Then we'll have to get in and out as fast as possible, before he can put that knowledge to good use."

Dom snorted softly. "Or God only knows what we'll be revisiting," he agreed, a wry smile spreading across his face, no doubt caused by some of the insane things they'd all been through in various past jobs together. "Remember that first job with him?" he asked, confirming Arthur's suspicions.

"All too well," Arthur replied, having to hide a rueful smile that threatened to spread across his face. Eames had arrived for his first day after Arthur himself was under, and had joined the dream with no warning. He'd forged his favorite tall, cool blonde for the occasion...and had spent half the day trying to seduce Arthur. It'd only been when they'd woken that Arthur had discovered the blonde was not a persistent projection representing some kind of bizarre sexual issue he needed to work out before the job, but was instead the forger Miles had recommended to Dom.

Of course, Eames was not only that. He was also Arthur's most bitter rival from his military days. The British Army's answer to Arthur himself, and a competitor he'd spent years trying to first best, and then stay ahead of. Arthur had known him by code name, by reputation, but not by name, not until he'd heard the big man give Dom his credentials.

But Eames had known Arthur, and had wasted no time in playing his games, the moment they were on the same team.

Dom's grin turned to a full laugh, obviously remembering the encounter as well as Arthur. "Watch out for blondes," he advised, apparently pleased when Arthur shot him a disgusted look. "But I suppose it's brunettes that have your attention, now," he added, jerking his chin the direction of Ariadne's laughter.

Arthur shrugged, his eyes seeking her out, watching as she leaned gracefully against Eames as she chuckled, looking up into his smiling face. The big man had lost weight in the last few months, but still dwarfed her small frame, enough fabric in his jacket to make three of hers. Arthur's hands tightened against the urge to leave Dom behind, cross the intervening feet, and sweep Ariadne into his arms, kissing her deeply and leaving all work behind them. "One, at least," he agreed, turning back to Dom and putting the urge aside. Later, in their farmhouse bedroom. But not now. "Do you think this is really the best way to get our idea in place?"

Though they had gone over the details and hashed out every possible avenue more times than Arthur could count, Dom took the subject change in good grace, apparently willing to let it go and obliging began discussing the plan once more.

*  *  *

Planning, preparation, building, designing, exploring virgin levels, talking things out, discussion after discussion, and practice after practice...it all came to this. Cobb watched the sunset through the open stable door, sinking slowly behind the horizon. The moon would rise, all too soon, but it's influence had already spread into their world.

Eames had been locked into his stall for fifteen minutes, awaiting the change, and the tranq gun lay close by, loaded with Yusuf's special concoction, a sedative that would hopefully give them the reaction they needed. There hadn't been time to test it, not without waiting another four weeks, and Eames was not the only one adamantly against that.

Beside the tranq gun, a collection of comfortable chairs had been assembled around a low table. The PASIV device sat atop that, compounds loaded and ready, the timer set. It needed only to be activated, and they'd all fall under.

Over the next few hours, they'd have to get into the wolf's mind and, with Eames's help, change it.

Cobb turned away from the sight of the sinking sun, hearing the dull click of a wolf's nails against the floor of Eames's cell. It was time. They all had their plans, their instructions. And while, as Arthur often reminded him, those plans would be valid only so long as everything went as expected--in most cases right up to their first moment in the mark's mind--he trusted his team. The team that had performed inception.

They could manage this, as well.

"Is everyone ready?" he asked, surveying the room. Arthur looked resolved, his mouth a thin, grim line as he angled himself toward the cell, keeping his own body between Eames and Ariadne. For her part, she looked equal parts nervous and anticipatory, her hand in her pocket, no doubt playing with her totem. Yusuf's usual genial smile was somewhat dimmed, as it had been ever since he'd heard of the fate that had befallen his friend, but he, too, nodded when Cobb's eyes met his. "Everyone been to the bathroom?" he added, his lips twitching upwards when Yusuf laughed, softly, and replied in the affirmative.

Cobb nodded one last time, confidence filling him. They were ready, and they could do this. "Arthur, if you'd be so kind as to invite Eames to the sleepover?" he asked, crossing over to the PASIV, already pulling out the line for the wolf. He tried to ignore the hiss of the firing gun, the yelp of an injured animal, and the way Ariadne winced through it all, turning away and hugging herself. It was time to work.

"He's out," Arthur reported, a few moments later, his voice as steady as it always was when they had a job to do. "Pass me the line, I'll get it set."

Not wanting to argue when Arthur was in this mood--at least when it wasn't something that truly mattered--Cobb handed Arthur the line he'd prepared, taking up the tranq gun to cover him as he opened the stall, carefully approaching the now sleeping wolf.

Quickly, efficiently, Arthur palpitated the wolf's right foreleg, apparently finding what he was looking for with no trouble. He inserted the line, securing it, and backed out of the stall once more, locking it tightly without the wolf doing more than twitching it's tail.

"All right," Cobb said, setting the gun aside and settling down himself. "Let's head in and bring him back." He pressed the line to his own veins, settling himself more comfortably before nodding to Yusuf.

The other man depressed the activation switch, and dreams came to take them away.

*  *  *Zoos had a certain sameness to them, all the world over to Yusuf. He knew the chatter of fascinated--and bored--children, stressed parents. The sight of lazy animals lounging in their cages, ignoring the voyeurism on all sides, looking nothing like the fierce pictures beside their cages that explained how they could kill at a moment's notice. The smell of vendor food mixing with sunscreen and animal dung, all wafting through the air.

But this one...this was different. Strangely quiet, as he saw no other humans nearby, heard no buzz of voices, foreign or otherwise. Though he knew the dream for his own, his own projections were carefully suppressed, leaving only the mark to provide a population.

It seemed that Eames had declined to do so.

Frowning to himself, though glad for the sunshine all around them, and not another incident such as had occurred the last time he'd dreamt with Cobb's team, Yusuf picked the path that should lead him deeper into the maze, keeping his eyes open for his companions. They should be close, and he hoped to find them soon...the eerie stillness of this place was getting to him.

Walking along, he seemed to feel the eyes of the animals to either side following him, whether behind the bars of enclosures, or the birds that seemed to flit into every tree. But surely that was only a city boy's imagination...animals didn't care where you went, projections of Eames's subconscious or not. It was only the human ones you had to worry about.

He hoped.

Walking swiftly, it was only a short time before he caught up to Arthur and Ariadne, the young architect leaning against her paramour. Though Yusuf knew the relationship caused Eames some distress, he approved himself. The two of them were well suited for each other, though they could probably both stand to laugh a bit more than either ever seemed to. And he sometimes worried they would never find rest from their work while together.

Still, they were obviously devoted, and their support for each other could not be overstated, especially in a time such as this.

"Have you seen Eames or Cobb?" he asked, by way of greeting, as he drew even with them, seeing they were watching a lion in its den, yawning hugely.

Arthur shook his head, a frown between his eyes. "Not yet. And we haven't seen anyone else...that worries me. His projections should be here, no matter how far we have to travel to find Eames on this level. And I haven't seen any of them, either."

"Nor have I, but they must be here," Yusuf replied, shrugging and heading down the path in step with them. "There can't be only animals here."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Cobb called, waving to them from up ahead as they rounded a corner. He trotted down to join them, looking solemn. "There are no humans here. And more animals than there should be, right, Ariadne?"

She nodded, shivering slightly. "They've been watching us, too. I think...I think they're the wolf's projections."

Yusuf blinked, stomach sinking as he saw both Arthur and Cobb nod. "Then where...where is Eames?"

Cobb's frown deepened, and he looked down the path they had to take, to find the middle of the labyrinth, and hopefully what they sought on this level. "This isn't inception. It's a rescue mission."

"A what?" Ariadne asked, her young face confused, and Yusuf had to remind himself this world was still nearly new to her. "Who are we rescuing?"

"Eames," Arthur answered flatly. "Now we know why he can't remember what happens when he's transformed. He's being held prisoner in his own mind. We're going to have to extract him right out from under the wolf's nose...and hope it's not as trained as he is at detecting what we're doing."

"Or we'll all end up in limbo," Cobb agreed, shaking his head with a humorless grin. "I knew I should never have agreed to this."

"Eames would do it for you," Ariadne said staunchly, though Yusuf wasn't entirely sure she was right.

"Let's hope we never have to put that to the test," Cobb replied wryly, walking a bit faster as the animals on either side continued to give them the stink eye. "What's the fastest way to the wolf exhibit?"

"Through here," Ariadne replied, opening a half-hidden door in the faux rock face in front of them. "We can use the service tunnels..."

"We're much less likely to run into animals in there," Arthur murmured, and Cobb nodded.

"Everyone in. Let's get this done as quickly as we can." He shook his head, following Yusuf.

And Yusuf couldn't help a grin, as he heard the American mutter, "just once I'd like to find out what'd happen on a non-rush job" as the clean white service tunnels enclosed them.

As Ariadne had promised, they reached the wolf exhibit quickly, and met no one. Not even a mouse along the way, causing all of them to breathe more easily. When they arrived, Arthur pulled the tranq pistol he'd dreamed from his pocket, nodding when Cobb stood by the door, at the ready. They knew they had one shot each, before needing to reload, and no certainty of which wolf it would be, or even how many awaited them.

Readying his own tranq gun, Yusuf swallowed hard and waited for Cobb to jerk the door open. Getting shot was not a pleasant way to die, he knew. But he thought he much preferred it to having his throat torn out by an angry wolf.

As it turned out, it was a valid concern. Dark shapes came barreling out of the door at them, deep growls turning to outright snarls. Yusuf snapped his gun up, tracking the shape closest to him, his only impression a blur of teeth and fur as it fell against him, knocking him to his back, certain he would feel teeth in his throat at any moment.

Instead, the heavy weight lifted off him a moment later, Arthur reaching down to give him a hand up. "You okay?" he asked.

Yusuf took stock, nodding hesitantly a moment later, distantly thinking if he had gone to sleep needing to pee, he wouldn't have still required a trip to the facilities when he woke. "Yes," he managed, swallowing hard, realizing he'd pulled the trigger in time after all.

"Everyone all right?" Cobb asked, rising from his half crouch, checking on the bodies of the wolves around them. Four wolves, four shots. Even Ariadne had taken hers, tranqing the wolf that proved to be Eames, distinctive in its coloring, unconscious with a snarl on its face.

"This is him?" Cobb asked Arthur, screwing a silencer onto a much deadlier gun than the pistol he'd used against the wolves. "You're sure?"

Arthur knelt down next to the fur covered body, gently pulling one eye open, running a hand back over the silvered fur. "This is him. His eyes, his fur. The others are all wrong."

Cobb looked over at Ariadne, then Yusuf. They both nodded. The other three wolves were darker, two black and the other a reddish brown, not the cream and light brown of Eames's wolf form, only lightly frosted with black. "All right," Cobb agreed, and calmly shot the other three, leaving only the Eames-wolf alive and breathing. "Let's get ourselves locked in that enclosure and down to the next level."

Yusuf followed the others inside, no longer sure how he felt about being left behind here, in a zoo with no visitors. But the enclosure was well defended, this back area a virtual fortress. Arthur pulled the PASIV out from under a rock in the enclosed area behind what zoo visitors could see. "If we set up right here, he can toss us into the water to drop us."

Yusuf looked up from where he and Cobb were carrying Eames-wolf--just as heavy as the man himself and not a job for a single person--and surveyed the set-up. There was an overhang to give the wolves privacy, with nothing below it for some distance, until it dropped into a fake river. It would do to provide the sensation of falling necessary to induce the kick. "Sufficient," he agreed in a grunt, helping Cobb haul the wolf's body up to the top of the rise.

"Then down we go again," Cobb agreed, looking at the unconscious wolf, frowning as he did so. "And hope we can find Eames down there." He let out a long breath, before turning to Ariadne. "Change of plans, too. If we're looking for Eames...he's more likely to come out for you than for me. I'll dream the next level, you go in the last with Arthur."

"Are you sure?" Ariadne asked, looking between Arthur and Cobb, her brow furrowing. "You're the extractor, I'm just the architect. I don't know if..."

"I'm certain," Cobb interrupted, pulling her slightly aside. But Yusuf could hear them, from where he helped Arthur in setting up the PASIV, and didn't even try not to listen. "Ariadne, you know how he feels about you. About Arthur. That will help more than anything I can do. Arthur's good, he'll protect you. But the two of you will have to do this."

Yusuf glanced over at Arthur, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged, looking meaningfully at the Eames-wolf. The chemist had to admit Cobb had a point...while he and Eames were friendly enough, it was no secret that Eames held a torch for both the slim brunettes in their group.

"All...all right," Ariadne said at last, nodding slowly. "You know the level as well as I do..."

"Good," Cobb said, louder. "It's decided. Yusuf, see you on the other side of the kick."

"You'd better," Yusuf replied, grinning with a confidence he didn't feel. As he hooked them all up to the device and activated it, he tried to ignore his own doubts. If anyone could do it, it was Cobb. But he'd just put himself out of the last level, where everything had to take place. What chance did that leave them?

*  *  *

Ariadne came to herself on a forest path, feeling skirts swishing around her ankles, her peripheral vision blocked by red fabric. Reaching up, she pushed a hood back from her hair, shaking her head as she looked down at the basket in one hand. A basket with bread and a few other treats tucked in beneath a cheery gingham cloth.

Blinking, she examined her own outfit more closely. Long skirts in red, a red bodice and white shirt beneath it, a red cloak with a hood and long, red, fingerless gloves...

"Well, if it isn't Little Red Riding Hood," Arthur drawled from behind her, a smirk across his face as he emerged from the shadows of the wood, his own outfit a fit for the times, but just as slickly put together as usual.

"I'm going to kill Cobb's subconscious," Ariadne replied cheerfully, leaving the hood down from her hair. She'd designed the level and planned it to be more a camping trip, a hike. But she was no longer the dreamer, so she knew exactly who she had to blame for this. And while she'd never seen Cobb as anything but a mentor, it was an undeniable blow to see he thought of her as such a child. "Have you seen him?"

"He's up ahead a bit," Arthur replied, picking up an axe she hadn't noticed before, slinging it over his shoulder. He followed her gaze and raised an eyebrow. "And apparently trusts me to slice you from the belly of the wolf."

"If Cobb's wearing my grandmother's nightie, I quit," Ariadne grumbled, but took Arthur's hand when he offered it, resolutely _not_ skipping down the forest path.

Thankfully, they met up with no wolf, but Cobb did appear around the next bend, frowning down at a patch of flowers. His eye brows nearly met his hairline, at the sight of her, before he squinted, seeming to take it all in. "That's...quite the outfit."

Ariadne stuck her tongue out at him, grateful at least that he had the decency to look embarrassed. "It is, isn't it?"

Arthur laughed again, still all too amused by the situation for Ariadne's taste. "We haven't heard more than a bird or two. You?"

Apparently grateful for the distraction, Cobb turned to Arthur. "There are wolf tracks here. If this dream follows the rules of the fairytale, he'll be waiting for us at grandmother's house, instead of a den. Let's go."

Thankfully, the trip through the woods was fairly uneventful, with neither sight nor sound of a projection. Though at first this worried her, Cobb's murmured praise of the effectiveness of her maze at both drawing in the prey and keeping all others out let her breathe a bit easier.

Still, when the gingerbread perfection of a cottage came into view after an hour's walk, she couldn't help rolling her eyes.

Arthur chuckled, leaning over to speak to her ears alone. "Really, Dom? You couldn't have made it out of gingerbread or anything more cliche?" She smothered a laugh.

"Quiet," Cobb hissed, as he sidled up to the building, a tranq gun already in his hand. "Ariadne, you'd better get in there. We'll play this out how it's going...and see if Eames plays along."

"So long as you shoot him before he swallows me whole," Ariadne replied, squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath. She could do this...no matter how little she wanted to. She had the best back-up she could imagine, in Arthur and Cobb, and it was a dream...even if she died, she'd been to limbo before and survived.

All of that meant she should be able to handle this.

Letting the deep breath out, she opened the door, peering into the dim recesses of the cottage, trying to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. She blinked a few times, seeing chairs, a table, a cooking area...and a ladder leading up to a sleeping loft. That would be it, the place where she'd placed the center of the maze.

"We're clear," she whispered, before heading inside, relieved to feel the two men move in behind her. Carefully modulating her breathing, she pulled a tranq pistol from her gingham covered basket, climbing the ladder as cautiously as she could, trying to push Mal's blazing eyes from her mind. Cobb had dealt with that projection. His dead wife wouldn't be lying in wait for her, wouldn't push a knife into her stomach, wouldn't cause that coil of all too real pain to bloom within her. He'd dealt with that, there was no danger in his dreaming this level.

There wasn't.

Her head cleared the top of the ladder, heart in her throat. And blazing eyes _did_ meet hers, but they belonged to the wolf, wrapped in the remains of a flannel nightgown. There was, thankfully, no blood, but Eames's blue gaze bored into hers, a low growl starting deep in his throat. "My, Grandmother, what big eyes you have," she murmured, lining up the shot and taking it before she could hesitate, wincing as the dart slammed home, the wolf jumped, yelped and collapsed back onto the ground.

"All right," Ariadne said, looking down at the two men below her. "Two down, one to go."

*  *  *

"I don't see why wolves have to have dens in places like this," Ariadne grumbled, pressing her back against the ledge, waiting as Arthur secured the rope against the rock face.

"You would've preferred a nice warm bank vault?" Arthur asked, grinning over at her, looking all together too much in his element, out here in the wilderness, dressed in slate colored fatigues, the same shade as the rock in front of them. His face, too, was covered in a paint the same color, rendering him nearly unrecognizable. It was all too easy to forget that Arthur had once been in the military, seeing him day in and day out in his cleanly tailored suits, presenting all the airs of a man of power, a man who needn't do any of his own dirty work.

But here, three quarters of the way up a mountainside, one they'd had to clamber up all on their own, gripping onto small ledges, working hands and feet into barely visible holds, here he was completely comfortable.

And, damn him, seemed to love every moment of it.

"Yes," Ariadne replied, trying not to look down, reminding herself it wasn't real, and that Arthur wouldn't let her fall, anyway. "Wouldn't you?"

"Relax," said Arthur, as he tugged against his rope a time or two, then started climbing again. "There's a path for the wolves on the other side. We're taking the hard way, so we don't get followed, remember?"

Ariadne sighed, but kept any further complaints to herself, looking up to the sky and wondering why she'd thought it was a good idea to put Arthur and Cobb through this. Or rather...put Cobb through. Arthur was obviously enjoying the hell out of it.

Treacherous heights or no, they were making progress, and she hadn't yet caught a whisper of the kick. She hoped that Yusuf hadn't been found, that Cobb had everything set up in the loft for the kick, that he would remain hidden in the small cottage. Everything had gone altogether too well for her piece of mind...aside from Eames missing in action of course.

But maybe the wolf mind was too focused on keeping Eames locked in to marshal its own defenses. Maybe everything was simply going along with their altered plans, and she should be grateful for it.

Maybe the mission would turn out to be easy, and they'd all be done and sleeping naturally in their own beds by...

"There."

The soft word pulled Ariadne out of her contemplation, and she looked down, to see a cave below them and to the right, a broken trail leading up to it.

And there, in the mouth, a torn and tattered jacket that was all too familiar. Eames must be inside...but there was no sign of his captors. She shot Arthur a look, and the point man nodded, inclining his camouflaged face in the direction of the cave. "Down and in, right?" he said, teeth flashing white in another grin.

Deciding she was really going to have to keep herself from playing to her boyfriend's terrain preferences in future, Ariadne nodded, swinging herself over in the correct direction, heading down the rock face. She tried not to notice how much more gracefully Arthur managed the same maneuver, instead concentrating on how grateful she was it wasn't raining or snowing, that the weather had cooperated with them.

Now all she had to do was hope they could find the wolf, that it wouldn't understand what was going on...and that Eames would be here. That they could free him. As deep as they were, it seemed likely that he'd be hidden away somewhere on this level, and Ariadne had designed this place for him...if the wolf would cooperate. If it's mind recognized the structure of the dreams.

But so far, everything seemed to be working according to their modified plan. So Ariadne rappelled down, until her feet touched blessedly solid rock. She unclipped her carabiner and slid her rifle up around from behind her back, training the barrel on the cave opening, grateful again that Arthur had taught her to shot, made her practice until she could handle a gun with some confidence.

He dropped down beside her, his own rifle already out, and he shot her another bright grin, a reassuring gesture. They could do this.

Together, they used the bits of cover in front of the entrance to approach, rushing forward in starts and stops, one moving while the other covered.

And still, nothing attacked. Nothing moved.

*  *  *

Arthur frowned to himself, as the entrance to the cave opened in front of them. This was too easy...what was going on here?

Shaking his head, he gestured for Ariadne to go ahead, before rushing out himself, covering the other side of the entrance. One after another, they slid in, moving slowly to adjust to the dimness of the inside, darker even than the overcast day behind them.

Here, finally, noise met his ears. But not the noise he'd expected, nor the scene, when it opened up in front of him.

A wolf-cub, just a small and frightened puppy, whimpered to itself in the middle of the cave, scrambling back away from the intruders, cowering in fear.

And there, growling at them, on all fours, teeth bared, was Eames. Half-naked, disheveled, but in perfect health, his body between them and the wolf cub.

"Arthur?" Ariadne murmured, gun trained on their forger, whose eyes showed all the humanity of his wolfish self. "Any ideas?"

Arthur blinked, staring at the tableau, at the snarling, vicious face of the man who was his friend. "Eames?" he tried, taking a step forward.

Eames's growl deepened, became more aggressive, and Arthur retreated again, exchanging a look with Ariadne. "Your guess is as good as mine," he replied, adjusting his grip on his rifle, keeping it trained on Eames.

"Arthur, wait," she hissed, reaching out and pushing the gun down. "He's not...he isn't threatening us. He's protecting the cub. Look...it's scared. He's trying to keep it safe."

Arthur looked again, at the way Eames kept the cub behind himself, his body between them and it, even when he moved. At the way he wouldn't leave it...she was right. "All right," he said, slowly unclipping his rifle. "So what do we do?"

"I'm working on that part," she admitted, frowning and chewing her lip. Finally, she sighed, reaching over to squeeze his arm. "Arthur...you know how he feels about me. About you. Don't you?"

"I...what?" Arthur asked, wondering what on earth that had to do with their situation. But at least Eames didn't seem likely to attack, so long as they didn't come any closer.

"Arthur, he loves us. Both of us." Ariadne pushed a lock of escaped hair back from her painted face, smiling ruefully. "And you can't say you don't feel the same about him. Not with what you've put yourself through for him, these last few months."

Arthur's gut clenched, hard and sour, and bile rose in his throat at the truth of her words. Maybe he did, but... "Ari..."

"It's all right," she said, cutting off his admission. "I...I feel the same. He's Eames, and...I know. But if we're going to bring him back...we have to...to admit it. Because I have an idea."

Slowly, haltingly, she outlined her plan, her pale cheeks flushed even under the camouflage make-up she wore. But the more she spoke, the more right it sounded, until Arthur had to finally cut her off with a deep kiss, holding her to him behind the rocks that separated them from Eames. "Yes," he said, nodding firmly when he released her. "Yes, you're right."

She sagged in relief, before taking the rifle he handed her, the tact vest that would only get in the way. "Good luck," she murmured. "I love you."

Warmed by the soft words, he returned them, before moving out from behind the rock, crouching down to the level Eames now took, meeting the other man's eyes squarely. "Eames," he said again, making the name a challenge.

Eames growled again, a sound with no language behind it, no words, and charged, coming at Arthur on all fours.

Arthur took the attack, rolling with it, avoiding Eames's snapping jaws, rolling the bigger man to his back. Ordinarily, he knew he couldn't overpower Eames, but the man was fighting like an animal, now, with no thought, no battle plan.

Arthur growled back, deeply, placing his hands firmly on Eames's chest, not giving an inch, praying Ariadne was right. That this would work. Eames snapped, growled again, but Arthur didn't back down for a moment.

Until Eames rolled once more, coming at him again, another struggle of limbs and strength, another fight for dominance, for control. Arthur gave it his all, using his training and more than a few dirty tricks learned in dreams to once again force Eames to his back, hands planted on his chest, legs straddling him. "Eames!" he snapped, forcing the other man to meet his eyes as the cub cowered and yelped in the background. "You're safe, the pup's safe. Come back!"

Distantly, he heard Ariadne calling to him, encouragement or warning, he couldn't tell. He paid it no mind, concentrating only on the blind challenge in Eames's eyes, waiting, praying for it to change, to clear.

And finally, two more rounds of rolling and fighting and wrestling later, when Arthur had again come out on top, he struck, putting Ariadne's mad plan in motion, risking it all.

Straddling the other man's hips, holding him down, he leaned in and kissed him, covering those snarling lips with his own, pressing into him with tongue, teeth and body, forcing Eames to feel him from crotch to face.

At first Eames fought back, bucking up once, twice...and then his mouth opened under the assault, his body went limp, hips pressing up against Arthur's, hands moving from twisted claws against his chest to flat and warm against his back. He keened, arching again, grinding up against him as Arthur pressed back, the two of them all but rutting on the cave floor, a tangle of bucking hips and open-mouthed panting.

The pressure and tension rose in Arthur, and he fought to keep himself in control, to force Eames to finish first, to bring the other man back into his body and his awareness. And finally, finally the bigger man arched up beneath him, shaking and spasming, calling out Aridane's name, Arthur's name, as warmth spread between them.

Arthur pulled away, slowly, hearing only deafening silence, his limbs shaking with satiated need and exhaustion. But he had eyes only for the man beneath him.

"Arthur?" Eames whispered, blinking a time or two, his tone confused, but his own.

"Welcome back, Mr. Eames," Arthur whispered, before kissing him once more.

*  *  *

Eames blinked again, staring up at the impossibility above him, before feeling a soft hand in his hair. He turned, to see Ariadne smiling at him, a wolf puppy cradled in her arms, yipping as it played happily with the end of her braid. "We were worried about you," she said, leaning in to replace Arthur's lips with her own, finally giving him a taste of the paradise he'd thought forbidden him. "I'm glad you came back to us."

After that, they had only clean-up left. The cub was taken into Eames's arms, soothed, reassured, and he haltingly explained how he'd come to be trapped there, protecting the scared wolf from any and all assaults. Thought none of them were experts in psychology, they all agreed that the frightened cub was the basis of Eames's aggression and memory loss as a wolf...the new side of his nature retreating behind the mask to deal with its fear.

Only riding the kick to the top would tell them if soothing that side and bringing Eames back to himself would be successful, but they had no choice other than to wait it out. The time was spent admitting how they felt, how each wanted the other two...and deciding that they should at least try it, together.

As the music sounded around them once more, the three jumped hand in hand from the ledge, letting themselves fall back into open space.

Eames opened his eyes into a cottage, falling away above him, and then a concrete room, doing the same. And, at last, to the familiar stable. But it wasn't the colors that assaulted him, as he did, but the smells, a map more complete than any eyes had ever given him. He yawned, long pink tongue curling out as his jaw opened wide, and a huffing nose of canine contentment escaped him. This form really was quite comfortable, he decided, drifting back to a more natural sleep.

*  *   *

Ariadne shifted in her sleep, her brow furrowing, lips twitching slightly. Small murmurs of protest escaped her lips, limbs shifting restlessly beneath the light blankets as she struggled, caught by some unseen force in her own mind.

Arthur woke, alert to her slightest distress. "Ari." He shook her gently as a soft moan escaped her.

Her eyelids flickered, opened, and she relaxed against him. A rueful smile spread over her face as she came back to the real world. "Arthur?"

"It was just a dream," he softly reassured her, leaning in and pressing his lips gently against hers.

She sighed, pressing close against him, winding her hands into his silken pajama top. "It was the same one as before," she murmured slowly. "Dark, everywhere, except for the moon...and I could hear howling."

Arthur smiled, as the long, drawn out howl turned into an apologetic bark, and a furred muzzle pushed itself into Ariadne's lap. "Just Eames. You should get more sleep."

"Mmm, I should've known," she murmured with a laugh, leaning over kissing Eames's head, her hand playing with his ears as he pushed closer, his tail thumping against the bed as he settled beside them once again. "Excited to see the sun rise?"

Eames's tail wagged again, and she buried a hand in his fur, the other still holding onto Arthur. "Shall we keep him company until it does?"

"Gladly," Arthur breathed, pressing against them both, kissing her and breathing them in, until all dreams melted in the heat of their perfect reality.  



End file.
